More TFA Drabbles
by Kotego
Summary: Drabbles about the A-Bots and D-Cons. May be updated over time.
1. Worth the Experience

The stares.

Oh how Slipstream _hated_ the stares.

She grimaced, though avoided optic-contact with the numerous 'Cons she passed through the long corridor. Some flashed looks of surprise, others betraying the slightest amount of interest, and the rest appeared to be unreadable.

Despite her usually confident and somewhat arrogant demeanor she displayed, Slipstream didn't enjoy attracting much attention. Even as the leader's mate, that alone didn't draw in the glances she received now.

What she hated most was that all the optics fell upon the current focal point of her body: the bulging cockpit that appeared to have swallowed her waist plates. Which, admittedly, Slipstream couldn't quite understand. Everyone had known for orbital-cycles that the femme was carrying. Such a sight was nothing new.

However Slipstream decided not to chew anyone's head off for this unwanted attention and make things worse; besides, she was tired of having to "poetically" explain how annoyed she was with some of the 'Cons' reactions. Might as well ignore it.

To her relief the 'Con finally stopped in front of the door leading into her shared quarters. Slipstream scanned the room for any sign of Megatron, but no other presence appeared in this room. She shrugged indifferently and depressed a panel on the wall that allowed the door to slide back into its place behind her.

That's when she slightly jerked from a sudden pang in her plates. The femme sighed. That seemed to happen more often now; it didn't hurt, but it certainly wasn't an enjoyable sensation. While they were assured such instances as these were normal, Slipstream couldn't shake off a lingering worry that grew with every impulse.

Maybe it was because the carrying cycle may finally be nearing an end that unnerved her – and these pangs surely didn't help the situation!

"It'll be over with soon," she quietly reminded herself. Though it did nothing to bring any repose; nothing really did at this time, to her frustration.

Slipstream paused when the door slid open once again. She needn't turn around, since she already became aware of whom it was walking inside behind her.

"How are you faring?" Megatron asked hesitantly. The mech seemed tenser than her during these recent deca-cycles when they were informed it was only a matter of time now . . .

"Fine," Slipstream replied, crossing her arms over chassis. "It's certainly not an enjoyable experience, though."

"I became aware of that the last several times you complained to me. I'm afraid there's not much else I can do." The comment seemed to be (or tried to be) laced with a bit of humor, but Slipstream wasn't amused.

Megatron walked past her and sat on the edge of the berth. "Care to relax, then?"

Truth be told Slipstream wasn't keen to do nothing but sit around. However there wasn't much else to do. With her current form she couldn't transform and Megatron had practically imprisoned her inside the base, fearful of what may happen when the femme was in such a vulnerable state. Of course, Slipstream didn't take kindly to that order, but for once her mate was truly determined to see this through to the end!

Slipstream hated such treatment, but after several times trying to "escape" the base (all in complete failure, for she hardly managed to cross the mountainside before Decepticon soldiers came to drag her back to an irate, yet clement Megatron) she eventually gave up and did whatever she could to pass the time. While, at first thought, it sounded luxurious to be excused from all duties around the base to avoid fatigue, it quickly became fragging _boring_.

Slipstream shrugged and sat next to the mech. However she sat with her back to him, still in protest of all these limited options.

"I know you don't appreciate what I'm doing, but it pains me to see you in such stress."

The femme rolled her optics. _'Oh please.'_ But instead she merely replied bluntly, "Just be glad this is all worth it."


	2. Sky's New Master

Birds chirped pleasantly, perched on the branches of a tall tree. Eventually the flock embarked into another flight, fluttering out and leaving the tree bare again. As the large group flew farther and farther away, the flock started to look like one magnificent creature flying among the clouds.

Optimus couldn't help but feel a little jealous. Organic birds, as far as he could tell, knew exactly what they were doing; banishing any diffidence they appeared to have and flew off as naturally as most organic creatures here breathe.

The mech himself wished he felt the same. He glanced back at his newly applied wings. _"Maybe Autobots _weren't_ meant to fly after all,"_ he had once said. At the time it felt true – or at least for him.

Optimus' first flight (not counting his jetpack's prototype where he nearly crashed into Sumdac Tower) involved an exhilarating experience, then an embarrassing one. While enjoying the test flight around Detroit, Starscream's femme clone – Slipstream is what she's called, right? – shot him down.

"I can't believe I went down so easily," he sighed. Optimus had to wonder if upgrading with wings was such a good idea anymore. While it was a tremendous advantage to be able to fight Decepticons on the same level, Optimus was still no less capable if he couldn't learn how to actually fly _correctly_ – and defend himself at the same time, preferably.

On the other hand, Optimus had to give himself credit for faring well enough without the 'Con's interference. He had to admit the first surge of blasting through air instead of remaining locked to the ground had been amazing!

Perhaps – with some practice – the 'Bot could get this to work . . .

Optimus slightly jumped when his comm. link buzzed to life. Depressing the activation, he answered, "Yes?"

"Prime, there's trouble," said Ratchet's graven voice.

"I'll be there," the Prime replied a little hesitantly. If Ratchet caught his uncertainty, the old 'Bot didn't dwell on the matter, much less acknowledge it. The line between them was cut, and Optimus was once again left alone to ponder.

No, he couldn't just stand here and think now that he'd received a warning. The young mech looked down for a moment. Then he turned around and ascended into the air. "Let's try this again."

'_I'm not a master now. Maybe . . . just maybe I'll get there.'_


	3. Retribution Required

Megatron was tired. He was tired of it all!

Tired of defeat. Tired of failure. Tired of humiliation. Tired of victory avoiding his grasp even when everything else fell _perfectly_ into place – that is, until _he _would arrive at the last fragging minute.

No matter his efforts, Megatron couldn't beat him. No matter what he tried, Megatron couldn't stop him from ruining his plans.

The silver mech glared at a holoscreen that displayed _him_: Optimus Prime. He studied this young 'Bot, trying to comprehend _how_ it was possible this space bridge repair bot could somehow best him in battle. In the Great Wars he fought countless Primes – all of which never managed to defeat him as many times as this Optimus (and certainly didn't anger him like this one mech did)!

. . . Non-muscular frame . . . young age from which he experienced basically no real battle . . . the only weapon being a measly axe, excluding those accessories on the arms . . . overall a body unfit for battle . . . _How_? How could this small, young, naïve Autobot possibly manage to live through a battle with Megatron – much less beat him?

It was unthinkable! Unfathomable!

It angered Megatron that this could happen. Not once. Not twice. Not even three times – but _four_ times Megatron had to taste bitter defeat by the servos of this forsaken mech!

He couldn't stand it. It racked his processor to study and understand this mech; to know how he worked – inside and out – in order to finally defeat him and rid himself of this 'Bot once and for all. At one time Shockwave gave him information on Optimus: that he was expelled from the Elite Guard as a punishment for breaking a vital rule – and losing a fellow cadet. But what good would this do him?

He wanted to know _everything_! Everything to take Optimus down, for humiliating him continuously in his "ever-valiant" effort to repel whatever plans Megatron had in store. But whatever information he collected was not enough. Again and Again Optimus defeated him; kept the All-Spark from his grasp, destroyed his space bridge, and destroyed his Omega Supreme clones. And at that time he was imprisoned for an amount of time before his followers issued an unexpected prison break.

Never had Megatron met anyone he hated this much.

What was this Prime's secret? In every encounter he calculated how to combat Optimus with whatever knowledge he'd gained, but it was all futile. What was it? That fragging team work morale he boasted constantly? The brief experience from being a temporary Elite Guard cadet?

No . . . that made no sense . . .

His optics turned to slits and a grimace forming on his face plates, the silver mech stood up from his seat near the console and pounded onto the controls with one ferocious punch. "How?" he asked the holoscreen.

Of course it didn't answer. But that didn't stop Megatron from continuing to ask how. Damaged circuits and wires buzzed under his tightened fist, and his digits raked over the bent metal in frustration. He just _couldn't_ understand. And it angered him.

From the opened door Shockwave hesitated to step inside. "My lord –"

"_What_ is it?" Megatron snapped irritably.

The single-optic 'Con paused before reporting, "All is well with our new base, despite we are forced to build it on Earth."

"Is that all?"

" . . . Yes, Lord Megatron."

"Then leave me alone."

Shockwave bowed and exited the room, giving a small glance to his leader that kept a deranged amount of attention to the screen displaying his rival.


End file.
